


Resurrection and Reconciliation

by Kaerith



Series: Witcher Prompt One-Shots [18]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Episode: s01e04 Of Banquets Bastards and Burials, Episode: s01e06 Rare Species, Evil Yennefer, F/M, Happy Ending, Hopeful Ending, Immortal Jaskier | Dandelion, Mind Control, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Rape/Non-con Elements, Resurrection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:07:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25842559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaerith/pseuds/Kaerith
Summary: "She is insane," Jaskier said, very quietly, not wanting Geralt to get involved. "She has... hurt me before. She wants to reverse her infertility even though it cannot be undone. My companion cannot think an unkind word about her.""Why is she particularly interested in your seed?" Borch asked.Jaskier was wary about admitting that he was a minor god to anyone.(CW: rape, temporary MCD)
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Series: Witcher Prompt One-Shots [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1791685
Comments: 8
Kudos: 217
Collections: Witcher Kink Meme (Dreamwidth)





	Resurrection and Reconciliation

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt:[Geralt/Jaskier, non-human!Jaskier is raped by Yennefer in "Bottled Appetites", TW: non-con](https://witcherkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/429.html?thread=370349#cmt370349)
> 
> Warnings: non-graphic J/Y non-con, G kills J but J comes back to life... eventually.
> 
> I came across the entry for a Polish god [Jarilo/Jaryło](https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jarilo) and was intrigued about how many of the names of the myth's other entities were in the Witcher world- particularly the game: e.g. Morana, Perun.

When Jaskier woke up there was a woman on top of him. He was naked, splayed out, and tied down on a very comfortable bed, and there was a naked (beautiful) woman grinding on his dick. 

"Who are you? Stop that!" He couldn't break whatever tied his wrists to the very thick bed posts. 

She was saying something in Elder, shit about vessels and fertility, and her eyes had rolled back and there was a sweeping sense of magic and Jaskier did not want to be here. "Geralt!" 

Magic coalesced inside of him, making him ejaculate against his will, without pleasure. "Who the fuck are you and why are you doing this?!" 

The sorceress panted hard and loud, but had a smirk that was vicious. "Jaryło or Gerovit. Do you have a preference as to what name I call you?" 

"Don't call me anything. Let me go! Where's Geralt?" 

"Your witcher is currently on a little... errand for me. To repay me for saving your life. You wouldn't have been dead long, anyway, though-- that's how it works, right?" 

"Those are myths. I'm just a bard." Jaskier doesn't have any hope of really convincing her. There's no point arguing with madness after all. "Why are you doing this to me?" 

"You're a fertility god. I couldn't turn down a chance," she said. She was gathering Chaos again and Jaskier had a suspicion that one try (or had it been more before he woke up?) wasn't enough to satisfy her. 

Pieces connected in his mind. "You want a child," he said, eyes wide. "But you can't." 

The sorceress snarled at him. "You are going to help me. Destiny brought you here!" 

"It won't do any good. It was the price of power and immortality. You can't unmake your choice!" 

"It wasn't a choice!" She snapped. The forces of her magic were growing and lifted the ends of her dark hair. "They took away my choice!" 

Jaskier struggled again as power poured into him, into his cock and bollocks, making him immediately ready to orgasm again. It was painful, even for someone who was more than human. 

"The compact can only be made willingly!" He yells, trying to reach some sane part of her. "It wouldn't have worked otherwise! This is just you regretting your choice and having a tantrum!" The winds are spiraling harder and louder and her eyes glow as she starts chanting again. 

* * *

She had him chained to the wall, spread eagle, and was using her fingers to pull yet another spurt of his seed. He had lost count of the number of climaxes she had forced from him, but even a fertility godling couldn't satiate her demand. She had started collecting his spend in bottles, and there were fifteen lined up, nearly half of them full. 

Geralt finally stormed in. "Yennefer!" He yelled. 

"Thanks be! Rescue me!" Jaskier cried out, rattling his restraints. 

The sorceress expressed her exasperation. "I am taking my payment, witcher. Kindly wait outside." 

Jaskier couldn't believe it when Geralt actually turned meekly and left! "Geralt!" 

"I've told you that I don't want to be involved in your sex games," Geralt turned to say before exiting. 

* * *

Finally she let him go. He was pretty sure his knees didn't work correctly, but he stumbled out of the mayor's manor. The witch was doing another spell. Something even _more_ dangerous than anything Jaskier had yet witnessed, and Chaotic energy was being sucked from the surrounding area into a vortex over the house. Jaskier watched as Geralt actually went inside, determined to save the mad sorceress despite Jaskier's attempts to stop him. 

Most of the manor collapsed, and Jaskier was relieved when Geralt made it out alive. Unfortunately, the mad sorceress survived as well, but Jaskier was determined to just move on with his life and try to forget her. 

He accomplished this well enough, he thought, until he and Geralt met up in late spring after a fortnight of being apart. 

"Remember Yennefer from Rinde?" Geralt said. 

"The crazy witch who raped me?" 

Geralt didn't seem to hear Jaskier's muttered reply for once. He looked dreamily into nothing, a besotted expression on his face. Jaskier felt sick. 

"We encountered each other again. She's beautiful!" 

"...And I'm sure she tied you down and rode you, too. But I'm guessing that you were into it the entire time," Jaskier grumbled. Obviously Geralt wasn't listening. He just started rambling about Yennefer's supposed virtues. 

When Geralt continued to speak at length, Jaskier grew suspicious. He snapped his fingers in the witcher's face. "Hey!" When his friend focused, Jaskier peered at him. "You never talk this much. Did she cast some sort of spell on you?" 

"Only love," Geralt sighed. 

"Shit," Jaskier said. "Not good." 

From that moment Jaskier took pains to avoiding bringing up the topic of violet-eyed maniacs with Geralt. So far, the man would just wax poetic about her, but Jaskier was leery. So often people under compulsions like these could get violent if their obsession was challenged. He had a constant ball of anxiety in his stomach, and began to startle at Geralt's abrupt movements. He was afraid that Geralt being under her spell meant that Yennefer had future plans for both of them. 

* * *

Geralt noticed that Jaskier was getting jumpy. He had a constant exhausted wariness to him and shadows under his eyes. At times Jaskier seemed to be afraid of him, but it was never when Geralt was growling from annoyance or even when potion toxicity made his eyes and veins black. Paradoxically, Geralt in a bad mood seemed to reassure the bard. That was when Jaskier tended to snark back at him and regain his usual confidence. 

Jaskier's first significant injury (that was not djinn-induced) happened when the idiot got too close to the bank of a stream that Geralt hadn't scouted yet. A drowner sprang from the mud and rocks and clawed long slashes down Jaskier's right leg. At the scream, Geralt was on his way with his silver sword drawn, beheaded the monster, and stood sentinel in case more were going to pop up. After a few minutes he turned to inspect his friend's leg. 

Jaskier's face was pale, due more to the surprise of the incident than the shock of blood loss. The gashes weren't very deep, but the bard cringed from Geralt as he moved to pick him up. Jaskier looked a little ashamed of his reaction and tried to bluff away the movement. 

"You don't need to carry me like a child. Give me a hand and help me hobble to camp to preserve my dignity." 

Geralt did, and Jaskier seemed to be back to normal. 

"I heard that derisive snort, witcher. I do so have dignity," Jaskier argued simply for his own amusement at arguing. "Being all inscrutable and communicating in grunts doesn't give you dignity, Geralt; unless you think pigs are the most respectable of all living beings. Which you might, because you always seem to be covered in mud even in the middle of summer." 

"The number of words you say don't give you points in some imagined competition." Geralt helped Jaskier settle on a log and retrieved his wound care kit. 

"Language is the highest form of art and every sentence is composition. I am ever honing my craft, like you with yours." 

Geralt knelt down in front of him and unfolded the waxcloth parcel to find the strong alcohol to clean the wounds. "That is the best excuse for your chattering that you have ever made. It's like you're a poet or something." 

Jaskier actually laughed hard enough that Geralt had to steady him with a hand on his shoulder. Once he saw the lack of severity of the injury, Geralt relaxed for the first time in days. Jaskier was happy, for once. It had felt like a long time since he'd seen his friend so open and talkative. He didn't want to ruin his mood, but Geralt figured that it was the best time to ask what was wrong. 

"Why do I scare you now when I never did before?" Geralt could hear Jaskier's sigh and glanced up to see his face turn pensive and pinched. 

"We can't talk about it. You are not able to see reason. Through no fault of your own. I haven't figured out how to fix it yet." 

Geralt felt something in his chest grow heavy. Maybe his breath; it was strangely difficult to breathe. "I don't understand." 

Jaskier patted his head. "I know. I told you it's not your fault. But I can't tell you that you're being... stalked by a pink horse without you thinking of a pink horse." 

"I don't understand," Geralt repeated, a little frustrated that the bard wouldn't explain anything. Jaskier's wounds didn't require stiches, so he began to wrap them with bandages now that they were clean. 

Jaskier sighed again. "Well, if you insist that I try, I'll try. Let's say a pink horse cast a spell on me. Every time I thought of a horse I would unconsciously think about the pink horse. If I saw a brown horse, I would be all, 'Well, that one looks boring now that I've seen a pink horse.' Now what if the pink horse had ensorcelled me to neigh whenever I thought of a pink horse. I would be neighing quite a lot. Follow me so far?" 

Geralt nodded, though the pink horse analogy was weird. He did understand that the mind associated things with one another. And spells did exist that made specific objects or concepts triggers for behaviors or thoughts. 

"Now what if I believed that every time I neighed like a horse I didn't realize I was doing it. Even if my closest friend tried to convince me that every time I thought of a pink horse I was neighing, the spell made sure that I was blind to that fact. It would be useless to discuss the curse with me. That's where we're at." 

"I'm cursed?" Geralt began to feel upset, and Jaskier stroked his hair a bit more soothingly. 

"Don't worry about it. Nothing you can do. I'll find someone to help me break it." 

Geralt was putting it all together. "You think that this curse will make me hurt you." 

"It hasn't so far. I don't think that's the intention; just a side effect that is probably more about my trauma than yours." 

"Trauma?" Geralt gripped Jaskier's shoulders, concerned. "What trauma?" 

Jaskier shrugged and smiled sadly. "I was kicked by a pink horse. The same one that makes you neigh. Every time you sound like a horse I might get a little afraid, but that doesn't mean you're going to kick me." 

Geralt followed the clues in his mind. A curse meant magic, and that meant an encounter with a mage that had hurt Jaskier and cast a spell on Geralt. What mage could have-? 

"Yennefer could break the curse," Geralt said. "She is brilliant and powerful. We should ask her next time we see her." 

"Of course, Geralt," Jaskier agreed, sounding tired and unenthusiastic. 

* * *

The conversation had only made things worse, just like Jaskier had feared. Now Geralt associated any evidence of his wounds with their conversation and that conversation with Yennefer. He got that manic gleam of a fanatic in his eye whenever he spoke about the sorceress. Jaskier was very cautious around fanatics, and moreso with Geralt because Yennefer was the insidious type, and could have an additional clause hidden in the curse that might be triggered by anything. Jaskier began to fear saying or doing the wrong thing that would make Geralt snap and tie him down and torture his semen out of him for hours so he could collect another batch for the witch. 

Jaskier was afraid, but he also knew he was stupidly loyal to his friend. If he was the only person who stood between Yennefer and Geralt, he was going to stay there and do his best to make sure she didn't make him her puppet entirely. He just wished Geralt had more people that cared for him so that he wouldn't have to face her alone if it came to that. 

He may be a minor god, but his powers and purpose were useless in this case. All he was good for was making sure life flourished. He had spent centuries creating small ways to sustain himself and the world, trade-offs to convince the flow of energy to wax and wane through every year instead of depending on his life and death to complete the cycle. If he was killed now the world would suffer famine and drought and thousands of living beings might die, but it would no longer snuff out a truly significant portion of life. 

How had Yennefer known who he was? He had never been detected by a human mage before. He wondered if his sister Morana had a hand in tipping off the witch. 

Just after his leg wounds had fully healed Geralt announced that they would be meeting Yennefer at the next town. Jaskier bitterly wondered how long this had been planned. Geralt seemed happier, and he had quickened his pace with excitement. Jaskier had to stop himself from dragging his feet like a reluctant child. 

* * *

Yennefer allowed Jaskier to avoid her. Jaskier was completely certain that if she had wanted to she could have had Geralt carry him kicking and screaming to whatever lair she was holed up in. He spent the day performing and spent the night hiding in the stable with Roach. Geralt was surprised to find him there in the morning, but didn't ask any questions. He wondered what Yennefer had done with Geralt, and it became an obsessive fear. What if Yennefer had put another spell on Geralt? He couldn't trust the witcher. Geralt seemed to notice. 

* * *

Geralt was not inclined to go on a dragon hunt. Jaskier was pushing for it, trying to convince the witcher to change his mind, and it was getting annoying. 

He wondered why Jaskier suddenly went pale and abruptly changed his mind and started moving down the bench and away from Geralt. Borch also seemed puzzled, but Geralt forgot Jaskier's odd behavior as soon as he saw Yennefer. 

"The sorceress and a knight are one of the other teams," Borch said. 

"We'll join you," Geralt said. 

The attitude of Borch and his two women changed, and the three exchanged glances. Jaskier muttered something about going to bed and left, and Geralt finished his ale and watched Yennefer and that armored puppy falling all over her. 

* * *

"You are frightened of the sorceress," one of the dark-skinned Zerrikanians said to Jaskier as they climbed the mountain. "Do you have a reason?" 

"She is insane," Jaskier said, very quietly, not wanting Geralt to get involved. "She has... hurt me before. She wants to reverse her infertility even though it cannot be undone. My companion cannot think an unkind word about her." 

That night Yennefer and her knight cornered Jaskier by the campfire while Geralt was away from the group. She smiled when she saw how he flinched from her. "Godling, what you have given me has been depleted in my experiments." 

"You took it from me," Jaskier corrected her, "and you will not get any more." 

Eyck put a hand on the hilt of his sword. "Do you accuse the lady of theft?" 

Jaskier laughed, and it was a high, broken, panicked sound. "Worse than theft. I suppose you have him under the same magic you put on Geralt." 

"Not quite the same," Yennefer said, smugly. "The witcher has some resistance to certain magics. More resistance than you do, bard." 

"I will kill myself before I let you take me prisoner again!" Jaskier promised. 

She just laughed. "I would stop you. I could have you at any time, as well as your seed." 

Geralt appeared. "I have told you to be polite to Yennefer," he told Jaskier, frowning. Jaskier just crossed his arms over his chest and stalked away. Borch was watching, and Jaskier took that as an invitation to join him and Tea and Vea at their fire. 

"She is a rabid bitch," one of the warriors said. 

"I won't argue with you on that point," Jaskier said. "Thanks for believing me. Whenever Geralt talked about how wonderful she is, I started thinking that I was the crazy one and had dreamed the whole incident up. It's nice to have unbiased people agree with me." 

"Why is she particularly interested in your seed?" The old man asked. 

Jaskier wondered what kind of creature or god he was to have heard the conversation from such a distance. He was wary about admitting that he was a minor god to anyone, but he also didn't want to lie as they seemed to be allies for the moment and the old man appeared to be giving hints about his own non-human status. Jaskier decided to drop a hint that would be enough for anyone with knowledge of the old gods. "I have a sister named Morana." 

Borch nodded slowly, understanding the meaning. "And Veles could be considered a father?" 

Jaskier shrugged. "It's a difficult relationship and hard to define in the Common tongue." 

Again, the man nodded. The women didn't seem to pick up any of the subtext of their conversation, but they remained calm and seemed to trust Borch implicitly. 

"Human languages do have their limitations," Borch said, which didn't give Jaskier any more information except that the Zerrikanians were unsurprised that the old man was not a true human. 

* * *

Borch, _a dragon!,_ somehow caused the witcher and sorceress to argue on the mountaintop. Jaskier was more interested in making sure that he was out of Yennefer's sight so he didn't hear the entire exchange, but there was something about a bond and some yelling about love and choice. Jaskier hoped that the shouting at each other meant that the sorceress' spell on Geralt had been broken. He had thought that it was safe to join them, but Yennefer was still there, sulking, until she saw him. 

"Your power has promise! I need more from you!" 

Jaskier was lifted off of his feet by her chaos and he looked at Geralt and Borch and the warriors for help. One of the ladies reached for a blade, but Borch made a gesture and she dropped her hand. 

"It cannot be undone," the dragon said to the sorceress. 

She spat vicious words at him, then made her power clutch Jaskier even more tightly. "I will drain him of his magic and steal away his purpose. He shall become dust, and the world will fall hostage to my power!" She cried out, her voice becoming a chilling chorus. Her burning eyes had locked Jaskier's gaze, and he was incapable of resisting. 

"Stop, Yennefer." Geralt looked confused but determined. "I don't know what you think Jaskier has, but you cannot take it." 

"He has lied to you!" The sorceress howled. "You will not protect him anymore, witcher!" 

"Take your magic off of him, witch!" It was hard for Jaskier to speak with the wind whipping past him. 

"Kill the useless fool," Yennefer said. 

Geralt drew his sword. Steel. He turned the point toward Jaskier. A part of Geralt broke free and realized what was happening, but her power still controlled his body and he moved toward his friend. "Yennefer, don't do this! I don't want to do this!" 

"I want to watch you castrate him," she said, her eyes glowing. "Bring me his balls." 

Geralt was able to give a panicked, pleading look at Borch and his guards. He only shook his head sadly. Geralt didn't know if that meant he couldn't or wouldn't interfere, but his rage grew. 

It was all Geralt could do to keep his sword point at Jaskier's chest for a moment instead of immediately thrusting it through. Jaskier's eyes looked sad, like he was resigned to his fate. "I don't blame you, Geralt. It's fine, I'll-" 

Geralt squeezed his eyes shut as steel met vulnerable cloth and flesh. He couldn't close his ears, however, and heard the last choking breaths Jaskier made. Yennefer's powers pulled back, and the bard's body fell to the ground, pulling Geralt's sword from his hand. 

Something inside of Geralt snapped. Things in his heart and mind tore. He fell to the ground and opened his eyes and scrambled to pull Jaskier close. He knew he was dead, but he would hold on to him as long as could. What was left of him. 

"I told you to bri-" Yennefer's voice was finally silenced. Geralt didn't turn to look. Something was happening to Jaskier. The earth was moving, trying to take the body. Geralt tried to pull Jaskier away. Hands fell on his shoulders. 

"Let him go," Borch said. 

Geralt's hands released their grip and he watched Jaskier slip into the dirt, into the mountain itself. "What?" He couldn't think in words, the grief emptied him. He was hollow with loss. 

Borch's hands kept him from crumpling completely. 

* * *

Jaryło woke up in a field of ever-green grass. When he sat up he saw the familiar landscape and the eternal herd of cattle. 

"Welcome home." There was Veles, his uncle/foster father (it was complicated), as beardy and woolly and smelly as ever. 

Jaryło rubbed his eyes. "Yeah. Great." 

* * *

Geralt left the mountain in a haze of weariness. Borch had tried to talk to him, but after the words, "He'll come back," he didn't bother to pay attention to whatever dragon lore the old man was trying to placate him with. One of the Zerrikanians had handed him Jaskier's lute and told him to take care of it until the bard returned, but the sight of the beloved instrument just made Geralt feel hollow. He figured he may as well take it back home- just another memento to remind him not to get attached to humans. 

The winter at Kaer Morhen that year was abnormally long, but with enough liquor Geralt hardly felt the chilling draughts that crept in. 

Vesemir eventually made him sober up and kicked him out of the castle and back onto the Path. Life was a series of contracts and blood and pain for awhile until he encountered Triss. 

"Oh, Geralt. I heard what happened." Geralt grunted, desperately not wanting to think about it. "Yennefer is with Philippa at Est Tayiar. The Lodge has been dealing with her since Villentretenmerth brought her to us." 

Seeing Yennefer sounded like something that Geralt was ready to do. They had some unfinished business. Triss made him promise to listen to what the sorceresses had to say, and then portalled them straight there. 

Est Tayiar was a subterranean elven ruin that some magic user had rigged with portals to cross the gaping chasms where carved stone walkways had crumbled. Geralt hated portals, and his mood was not improving as he had to go through several. When he and Triss finally entered a large room to join Philippa and Yennefer, Geralt hung on to the remnants of his short temper with his proverbial fingernails. He lunged at Yennefer baring his teeth but managed not to draw a sword. Yet. 

"Why did you make me kill Jaskier?!" 

There was a flicker of fear in her eyes before she managed to hide it. Geralt noticed the dimeritium shackles chaining her wrists together. "It isn't permanent," she muttered. 

Triss spoke up. "That is _not_ the point!" 

Geralt shook his head, finally curious about the hints that Borch, the Zerrikanian warrior, and now Yennefer had dropped. "What does that mean?! It felt pretty permanent when I was holding his corpse!" 

Philippa gestured to Yennefer to stay quiet. Her sightless face turned toward Geralt and he felt like she could still see him without the eyes that had been gouged out by Radovid. "She is under the belief that your bard was not human. That he was a fertility diety. Her mind has become clouded from logic and she has fixated on recovering her womb. 

"Her influence still chains your mind. Shall I remove it?" 

"Yes," Geralt growled. "And then I need to hear everything from the beginning: what she did to me and what she wanted from Jaskier." 

"Explain," Philippa ordered Yennefer. As the blind sorceress undid the magic on the witcher Yennefer gave an almost surly account of her actions, which began when Geralt had brought Jaskier to her in Rinde. 

"I wouldn't have known he was immortal, or anything other than human, if _she_ hadn't appeared. A death goddess who called herself Morana. She told me that the bard was her twin brother, a god of life and rebirth, and that he could restore what had been taken from me." Her teeth ground together and her hands clenched into fists as her anger surged. 

"Yennefer!" Philippa said sharply. The younger sorceress reluctantly continued, telling them of how she had used her magic to force Jaskier to perform sexual acts and then held him prisoner to gather his seed while she sent Geralt off on "errands" while he was bewitched, a puppet following her commands. 

"My magic didn't work on him for very long, his own chaos burned through the spells within hours," Yennefer said. "But you were easy to manipulate. I knew that as long as you traveled together, I would have a means to get the immortal back under my control to draw out more of his essence. Then the dragon interfered. I had that insipid wastrel of a god in my grasp and was about to steal all of his power. If he couldn't give me the ability to conceive a child then I could drain him, take everything from him, destroy him and become a god myself! Power was meant to be used, and all he did was follow you and sing. The dragon protected him somehow but it was against his honor to magically manipulate mortals, so he couldn't actually step in and stop you from simply killing the idiot." 

Geralt stumbled away from Yennefer until he hit a wall and covered his face. There had been so much time between Rinde and the dragon hunt-- why had Jaskier stayed with him when he was a weapon in Yennefer's control? Jaskier's fear and frustration and lecture about "pink horses" made sense now that Geralt knew the whole story, but _why had Jaskier stayed?_

"He knew you could make me kill him." 

Philippa said, "Maybe Yennefer is right and he is immortal." 

"Or," Triss said, "he loved you and was loyal, and hoped that he could save you from Yennefer." 

"If he is immortal then can I find him again? How does that work? Borch- the dragon- said that he will come back." 

Neither Triss nor Philippa had an answer. If Yennefer knew, she kept her mouth shut. Geralt pointed at her. "What are you going to do with her?" 

Philippa folded her arms and tilted her blindfolded head. "Try to cure her of the madness. If she cannot be brought to reason again, then we will kill her. Imprisoning a mage of her power and lifespan will only make her more dangerous and bloodthirsty. It is the best option to kill a sister before she loses all humanity." 

They ignored Yennefer's screams of rage. 

"Do you think she can be cured?" Triss asked. 

"I have already made some progress. It will take years, and that's only if I can devote time to her. I may have to put her into the custody of another Sorceress of the Lodge. I am the most experienced at this work, but with Radovid intent on hunting me down I may not have the luxury of focusing on Yennefer." 

After confirming that Yennefer no longer influenced his mind, Geralt left. He didn't have much interest in debating the witch's fate. 

* * *

The underworld was static. Pretty, but static. The grass grew, the cows munched, the grass grew more. The cows shat, Velen cleaned it up or made Jaryło do it (See, Geralt? Jaryło knows all about shoveling shit, and he wasn't doing any of it up in the real realm!), and the sun shone. An eternal early spring, unchanging except for the digestive systems of Velen's cattle. 

Chaos and Order defined all things. A perpetual balancing act between how the Gods wanted things to work and how everyone else made all these tiny little changes to make their lives easier. Like mages channeling chaos for their lust for power and immortality, or a minor god wanting to forego the usual transition to a mortal form. Nature had a system and Jaryło usually went with what She wanted. (Well, once he had freed his energy being bound to the changing of the seasons. Winter only coming when Morana killed Jaryło? Fuck that. It was easy enough to make the seasons a stable rotation and keep his death out of it altogether-- after all, Nature loved Order. Plus, Jaryło had wanted to see this snow the mortals talked about. Anyway, that was millennia ago; he had earned a bit of leeway in tampering with the division of worlds.) 

Usually the minor gods were incarnated through possessing an existing mortal form. Jaryło had preferred taking the bodies of mortals on the brink of death. Young Julian Alfred Pankratz had been insensate from a lingering illness and sustained high fever when Jaryło had slipped in and taken over, careful to keep his new body's recovery just on the correct side of the border of miraculous. 

Every body had its natural aptitudes: this one had a tendency for lean muscles and a musical ear. This era of civilization had advanced with its technology and academic accomplishments since the last time Jaryło had been a girl with a wooden flute and clever fingers (several centuries ago), so he had fallen head-first into this new world of music and poetry and taken every advantage of his mortal host's financial and status privileges to study at the renowned Academy at Oxenfurt. 

Jaskier nee Jaryło was a romantic. He had been enjoying his life as a bard, climbing his way to fame on both the Continent and the Isles. He had also been embarrassingly smitten with Geralt. Getting killed before at least telling Geralt that he was an immortal who could return and find him again had not been the plan. If he were to take another mortal form, Geralt would be as likely to kill him as listen to Jaskier's explanation and then believe the wild tale. 

(Plus, Jaskier knew that the handsome bard's body was at least somewhat pleasing to the witcher's eye. Geralt had, of course, never said anything, but there had been hints.) 

So he would be challenging Nature by not only trying to pierce the boundary between the world and underworld, but also to form a physical replica of Jaskier the Bard to step back into. 

* * *

Geralt tried not to measure time in relation to Jaskier's death, but his mind kept track anyway. That was why he knew it had been over two years since he had slain his friend and watched him die when the bard's double walked into the same Posada tavern. 

"Even my poetic soul finds this trite," the creature said, his dramatic sigh belied by a beaming smile that he couldn't manage to stifle. "Really, Geralt... meeting up in the same shitty corner of the world? Did a seer give you clues to the date of my return?" 

Geralt finally managed to turn away, his eyes thirsty for Jaskier's image despite the anger at being played by some asshole doppler or mage. "Do not pretend to be him." 

Unfortunately, the double took a seat next to him. "I have had some time to consider how to prove my identity making my way down that blasted mountain," the look-alike held out a hand. 

"Silver? Preferably your medallion or maybe a knife and not your sword. I'm not sure I could make myself a new hand." 

It sounded like a joke. The double was smiling. It made Geralt uneasy, though, because it was more macabre than the real Jaskier tended to be. He had a silver plate in his pack, fresh from the armorer's, to replace one that had been ripped out in a recent fight. The person next to him took it and handled it without any incident for a minute before passing it back to the witcher. 

"So, uh, is Yennefer still around?" 

If this wasn't Jaskier, it was making a very convincing attempt. The bard knitted his fingers together and his heart rate sped up and Geralt even caught a whiff of some nervous perspiration that smelled so authentic that the scent was like a punch to the stomach. Geralt frowned and straightened his shoulders, reminding himself that he had killed Jaskier and this was a trick. 

"Last I heard, she was still in the custody of at least one of the Lodge Sorceresses," Geralt said carefully. "They think they can cure her fixation." 

The man next to him gave a very Jaskier-like huff of doubt. "They cut her womb out and burned it. I don't know how she figured out what I am, but it would take someone a lot more powerful than I to produce some theoretical magic seed that would magically restore parts of her body." 

"What are you?" 

"Sir Borch didn't tell you?" 

"Why did he know when I didn't?" Geralt asked, some anger sneaking out into his voice without his intention. 

The Jaskier-double patted the witcher's hand like it was an old habit-- which it had been, between the two of them, years ago. "I'm hardly anything. A small-G god of rebirth to encourage the growth of crops and birthing of livestock. Once I encouraged the yearly seasonal cycle I gained my freedom. Since then I've chosen to take mortal bodies and experience life in all different ways. Between lives I go back to the underworld where it is boring. I didn't tell you because I _was_ a human bard. If we," he backtracked, a little embarrassed for some reason. "If things between us changed, then I would have let you know. As it was, I don't think I had time to tell you properly that I can come back. Not the same, usually, this was a special case," he added, gesturing at his body. 

"Come back? You mean, resurrect?" 

"I find a new body. Hitch a ride the moment before the natural inhabitant dies. I have enough power to stave off death until whatever illness or wound heals." 

Geralt was still sceptical. "And Borch knew?" 

Jaskier put his fingers through his hair and sighed. "He saw how I reacted with Yennefer there. I told him who I am and that I was afraid of what she might try to do to me next. You weren't exactly in the position to act against her." 

Geralt abruptly stood up, the stool skidding and creaking away. The noise made the handful of people in the room look at him. "Outside," he said, shortly, to the man next to him. 

The witcher could smell the bard's anxiety but he followed Geralt out of the tavern. Geralt didn't really know where to go and ended up heading toward the blacksmith's, where he rented out stalls for travelers' horses. 

"Roach!" Jaskier seemed quite happy to pet the familiar horse. Geralt crossed his arms and leaned back against one of the pillars propping up the roof and watched. 

"I thought you might have needed a new mount by now," Jaskier said, ducking down at a safe distance to examine her legs before popping back up and checking her teeth while he stroked her blaze and forelock. "But she is still in good shape. Little more wear on your teeth, huh girl? Geralt should be treating you to more warm mash and apples instead of dry oats to keep your back strong. And honey biscuits, right? I told him they're your favorite, but the mean man keeps trying to steal them away from us." 

"Baked goods give her gas," Geralt said. 

" _Everything_ gives a horse gas," Jaskier retorted. "It's not your fault, Roachie," he cooed to the mare. 

"Jaskier." Geralt stepped away from the pillar and let his arms drop. His voice sounded hoarse. Jaskier waited for him to say something else, and finally the witcher lifted a hand and made a beckoning motion with his fingers. 

Jaskier eyed him warily before stepping closer. "If you kill me again I won't come back. You got one pass, and I will take another attempt on my life as proof that you truly never want to see me again." 

Geralt took Jaskier's hand gently and turned it up to study the calluses. "Don't joke about that." His voice came out with an audible crack in the middle of "about." He pulled the bard a bit closer and pushed his sleeve up so he can smell the crook of his elbow. 

"What are you doing?" 

"You smell real," Geralt said, lifting his eyes up. Jaskier could see that his cats-eye pupils had widened into ovals. The witcher looked vulnerable and human. 

"I have proven that I am not a doppler. Mages cannot make illusions that can fool someone who so thoroughly knows the real person. You saw Jaskier's body die and sink into the earth. The elements retained the memory of this body and my magic was able to weave it back together. If you decide to kill me again, I won't have enough energy to perform the same trick twice. Passing through the veil and taking a new body doesn't require much magic energy, but this feat," he lifted his arms to indicate his living form, "required all I had saved up for two centuries." 

"Do you remember all your lives?" 

Jaskier shook his head. "I couldn't even count the number of people and animals I have been. I remember the most important aspects, like everyone does of their own history. I was a warlord before the Conjunction of the Spheres once, before I learned that mortal politics of power are so constricting. I remember the people I loved the most fervently, because I could not stop their deaths and my memory usually is all that remains of them. But I have learned to leave each life behind at the body's final death. A wife returning in a new body after several years of being dead doesn't bring anything but pain to a family." 

"It takes that long for you to return?" 

Jaskier nodded. "I am particular about who I choose to be. If I had followed my usual method, I would have chosen a young person. Then I would have to live as them until I was able to leave and track you down. Then I would also have to convince you that I was who I said I was. It was easier to do it this way." 

"It's been over two years," Geralt told him. 

"Exactly. Not long to immortals like us. Even before I woke up in Caingorn and traveled here, I spent some time in the Underworld. Time gets... slippery between the two. I did my best," Jaskier shrugged. 

Geralt finally gave in and stepped forward to hug Jaskier. "I am so glad you're back." 

"My dearest friend," Jaskier said, "I promised you years ago that you couldn't get rid of me."


End file.
